


Heartbreak menders

by UMsArchive



Category: Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, No Angst, bit of non-con but nothing major, it's an old piece, kind of, post break-up one-shot, tendency to humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:32:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UMsArchive/pseuds/UMsArchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec was starting to regret this. Stereotypical heartbreak menders were clearly overrated, both in their usefulness and in the advertised solitude of the act.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbreak menders

Alec was starting to regret this. Stereotypical heartbreak menders were clearly overrated, both in their usefulness and in the advertised solitude of the act.

He didn’t recall what was the moment he decided going out to get wasted seemed like a great idea. The going out might have been because of being tired of Izzy’s pitying looks. And even Jace’s more careful attitude. Concerning the ‘getting wasted’, he was not quite sure…

In fact, he couldn’t recall many things. The throbbing in his head quite did not help it. That part of the whole ‘getting wasted’ advertisement - the forgetfulness - could receive some credit. Only one problem: he could remember almost nothing except for what he came to that bar to forget. The blurrier the image before his own eyes made the image of HIS face even clearer in his mind. In his drunken thoughts, he was tempted to see if he could reverse it, if by getting a clearer eye vision, the mental image would dissipate. The logic was flawless in his mind. However, another chain of logic thoughts warned him he was in the middle of a mundane bar, with a glamoured ID (Jace had been right saying that would come in handy one day) and perhaps taking out a steele and starting to burn his own flesh was not ideal. Also, the smarter and less intoxicated side of him guaranteed it was not likely for him to be able to draw a clear vision rune without blowing up his arm instead, or something…

All in all, the experience had been a disaster. He felt sleepy. And sick. He considered taking a trip to the toilet to just empty his stomach altogether and be done with it. Only if he could empty his heart the same way and so cure that one sickness, too. But something told him the sickness in his stomach was all that kept him awake and he felt as if he had already sank low enough, as to not afford falling asleep in some dirty bar toilet, too.

He did worry that he would end up throwing up on the stairs of the institute or anywhere on the way to his room, but a greater fear started to fill his guts: that, once he got up from that chair, he wouldn’t be stable enough to make his way to those stairs.

He made an attempt, sitting up. Nausea hit him on the spot and, for the moment, he was sure the would vomit all across the bar’s counter. But the moment passed with no incident. Which was good. But his legs were clearly not good for walking. Not so good. He sat back down, trying to think of a way to get out of there without making a fool of himself. But he was slowly dossing off. He could no longer control his brain, not any more than his legs.

He made a dizzy hand sign to the bartender and was glad the guy seemed to get it and handed Alec the bill shortly after. He paid and took out his phone, contemplating his options.

Damn touch screens. Not drunk friendly. Old phones with big obvious buttons, those were the deal.

He couldn’t even focus. His eyelids kept falling and and as light came and went before his vision, so did the same image. Eyes open - blurry bartender, eyes closed - the glass clear image of HIM. Eyes open - creepy guy eyeing him, eyes -

“You look like you need some help.”

Alec forced his eyes wide open, trying to focus. The guy did not look at him with Samaritan intentions. He was drunk, but not a fucking idiot.

“Th-thhhank y-ou, n-no,” he slurred and knew it had been a mistake. He just showed how weak he actually was and, as a Shadowhunters, he could recognize a predatory look. And he was the prey.

“Come on. I’ll help you get to a taxi. Come with me.” The older man was getting closer with every word. Just like any predator, he was being strategic. Soon, Alec would be muttering his incoherent ‘no’s while being carried away by the creep. No one in the crowded bar would suspect a thing.

“Don’t worry. I’ll carry you out.” Even closer.

Alec didn’t dare say a word. 1.because he knew it was worthless talking to the guy and his slurring and stumbling through words would just continue to advertise how easy of a prey he was. 2. He was saving his strength, eyeing the room for the best escape.

He felt the pressure and warmth of a hand on his thigh.

Too close. TOO CLOSE.

“Too close!” he heard his own voice, whinier than he would have preferred, followed by a loud crash. And everywhere was silence.

He opened his eyes and looked around. He was sitting in a rather dizzy fighting stance. The creep was no longer in his immediate sight. He looked around in a drunk daze. Across the room, blurry figures were staying hidden under their tables, waiting. He turned his head to the bar (too fast, getting hit by nausea). Behind the counter, there were barely any bottles left un-smashed. The bartender was holding up a broken bottle in a shaking hand. “Don’t you dare come any closer.”

A dizzy figure raised from behind the counter, rubbing his head. The creep. Did he throw him behind the bar?

Alec tried to straighten up in a sitting position, but stumbled, accidentally swinging forward, avoiding a worse embarrassment by finding sustaining in the bar’s counter.

The bartender flinched, probably misunderstanding the move, and waved his bottle more desperately, “Stay away I said! I’m calling the police!” Great.

Alec raised his hand defensively and tried to explain, but only some incoherent mumbling came out. He was not just drunk, he was a drunk public danger. Just great.

“There you are!”

Alec’s entire body relaxed. He’d be teased a lot about it, but he’d get home safe.

A strong arm got hold of Alec’s waist, while another got hold of one of his long arms and threw it around a set of shoulders linked by a wide back. Most of his own weight was taken off of him and he could breath freely.

“Don’t you worry, folks. Angry giant is out. Enjoy your Saturday night.”

Cold air soon hit him in the face and he gagged.

“You better not throw up on my new jacket. I want Clary to see how well it outlines my muscles.”

“Ak yuu.” Fuck you.

“That better be a thank you.”

“Why yuu ‘ere?”

“I was about to go out with Clary when I got the call so I called her to wait at the Institute while I fetched you.”

He was thankful to reach his bed with no gross incidents. As was Jace’s jacket, probably.

“Ak yuu, Ace,“ he murmured. Thank you, Jace.

 

“Ok, stop swearing, though.”

 

“No!” Alec denied.

 

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

 

He waved a hand dismissively. It fell lifelessly back on the mattress. He’d thank later.

 

The door closed. Alec clumsily grabbed his phone and looked through the last contacts. He clearly didn’t contact Jace. He didn’t remember.

 

MAGNUS Today. 4 Dialed. 1 received. 2 minutes and 3 seconds.

He didn’t remember this either.

So it was not him Jace receive a call from, after all.


End file.
